


the breeze in my austin nights

by mellodrama



Category: SKAM Austin
Genre: F/F, First Kiss, Getting Together, Missing Scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-09
Updated: 2020-08-09
Packaged: 2021-03-06 06:49:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,528
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25799218
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mellodrama/pseuds/mellodrama
Summary: The early August heat is sweltering and thick, probably unbearable by any normal person’s definition, and Shay absolutely loves it.(Shay, American Even, and 21:21)
Relationships: Shay Dixon/American!Even, Shay Dixon/Original Female Character
Comments: 8
Kudos: 13





	the breeze in my austin nights

**Author's Note:**

> just a small drabble because i've been thinking about how all of the evak first kiss scenes utilize water in some way, and wanted to write what one possibility of skamau's might have been like. this takes place in a s3 universe where covid doesn't exist. i'm not american so some descriptions of austin & high-school life are probably off. feel free to leave feedback! 
> 
> title from "texas reznikoff" by mitski.

* * *

The early August heat is sweltering and thick, probably unbearable by any normal person’s definition, and Shay absolutely _loves_ it.

She’s a summer baby through and through; sixteen years of sticky summer memories combined with a penchant for nostalgia-dipped daydreams, but it’s not even really that. Performing has always provided a certain buzz, and performing in the summer is like the perfect combination of everything she loves about Austin, her friends, her band.

Her life.

The crowd pulses as Marlon leads them through the outro of _Life In Italics_ , and like she does every time she attends a show, Megan waves her hands to the beat and sings along. Months ago, the sight would’ve stung a little, but now all Shay feels is a groundswell of gratitude and excitement. Megan won’t know the words to the next track, but she’s smiling widely, nodding whenever she catches Shay’s eye, and having friends and supporters that are genuinely enthusiastic – it’s nice.

The school principal, fresh off a seminar entitled _How Do You Do, Fellow Kids: Increasing Student Engagement and Amplifying School Spirit,_ had extended an invitation to Clout From Grandma’s Closet to perform a small concert in the auditorium a few weeks before the end of break. Something about hyping everyone up for the new semester or whatever. Tickets were free for Bouldin students, $5 for everyone else, and any profit made at the snack stall would be directly funneled back into the swimming pool maintenance fund.

(Clout were thankfully allowed to keep the merch table earnings – they worked _too_ hard on those shirts to not. Shay can still feel tacky remnants of spray-paint coating her fingertips.)

Eager to get more practice in – and never one to turn down the chance to show-off – Tyler had quickly accepted on their behalf. Shay can’t say she’s _too_ mad that he didn’t consult them first, because her motivations for going so hard tonight aren’t entirely band-related either.

They’d started their set with the classics: _Hyphy, Involuntary Teenage Rebel, Italics_. Stuff to get the crowd pumped up before easing them into something slower, moodier. It’s new material only ever previously performed in bedrooms and garages, and she’s been tight-lipped as to where her newfound muse has come from.

(Tyler, still the only person she’s out to, probably correctly suspects why, but they haven’t had _that_ conversation yet. He’s been busy with some hockey player he met on Grindr, and well. She’s not exactly ready to share the news anyways.

But soon, maybe. Soon, there might actually be something to report.)

The new song – _Minutes_ – begins with a synth solo that Tyler dutifully taps out. It’s a little muted, as if you’re listening whilst underwater, which is precisely what Shay intended when writing it. That’s how she’s felt for – God, years probably. It became less difficult the longer it went on, but this past year has been spent in a weird free-for-all where she’s been forced to confront her feelings for Megan before hiding them with Nic, and now finally attempting to move on for good. That last part, the coming up for air, has been surprisingly easy. If she’s honest with herself, it mostly has something to do with –

The entire hall erupts with wild cheer when Shay starts her verse, but there’s only one person that she sees.

* * *

Like any serious band, Clout have a post-show ritual.

It was mainly a joke at first, but Shay’s gradually become accustomed to it, and now two years later, not doing it immediately after scampering backstage feels wrong.

Even so, she might actually commit a murder if Marlon and Tyler don’t stop fucking around and _get on with it_.

The boys pass a warm can of soda back and forth. A sheen of sweat glistens on Tyler’s forehead, and he can’t stop wiping his hands across the ripped leather of his pants. Shay has to bite her tongue to hold back the snarky suggestion that he probably wouldn’t be frying if he were wearing jeans like a _normal_ person, because she knows it’s not his fault that she’s this snappy. Besides, this has easily been the best show they’ve ever done, leather pants and all, so she supposes she can forgive him. They’re all running on adrenaline anyways.

(And – glancing at the lingering figure in the corner – something else, too.)

“Afterparty at Grace’s tonight, you in?” That’s Marlon. His hands tremble as he offers her the soda.

She shakes her head. “Maybe. I’ll text you.”

It satisfies him when it ordinarily wouldn’t, but that’s only because he discovered the ‘truth’ about what she did to Megan and is still convinced that Shay is harbouring a deep and secret love for him. She’d denied it without admitting the real reason, but he doesn’t really believe it, meaning the only times they’re clambering to hang out together are band practice and performances.

Which is fine for now. Their friendship can repair itself when she doesn’t have other, more important plans to get to.

After the rest of the ritual is conducted – involving a highly complicated handshake – Marlon and Tyler are quick to scatter, and Shay soon finds herself almost entirely alone, kicking a half-empty merch box out of the way.

The figure in the corner smiles. They’ve got one hip propped against the doorframe; arms crossed over their chest. Shay smiles at the easy confidence, their seemingly endless swagger.

“You wanna get out of here?”

And Shay does.

* * *

Full disclosure: when Jazmine asked if she wanted to get out of there, Shay figured it meant something like, _hey, do you wanna actually leave the school grounds and drive around the city?_

She did not realize she was meant to interpret it as, _hey, let’s go to the football field._

But here they are, exiting the locker rooms and skipping through the tunnel. Jazmine had insisted Shay give her a brief tour of the grounds, which also included the low-down on each and every player. And if Shay had slightly exaggerated some of the anecdotes she’d offered purely to make Jazmine laugh? Well. That’s neither here nor there.

“Oh, before I forget,” Jazmine starts, fishing a rumpled five-dollar bill out of her pocket. She’s wearing denim shorts adorned with a dozen social justice related pins. If Shay were braver, she’d reach out and poke them, try and read the ones with smaller print.

As it is, she merely knits her eyebrows together, reluctantly taking the proffered money. It’s warm in her hands, and something about that feels strangely intimate in a way.

“Thanks?”

“For the show,” Jazmine clarifies, amused. “I’m not a student yet, am I?”

Almost exactly a month ago, Shay had simply been minding her business at a party – _a_ _networking event_ , Marlon called it – when her knight in shining Converse had stalked up and saved her from the beer-breathed jocks terrorizing everyone with their shitty jokes.

Her name was Jazmine Torres, and she’d just moved from Florida on account of her father’s new job. She was used to the heat, but not the people. The Adderall-fuelled SoundCloud bands were different in Miami, she’d said during a lazy afternoon last week. And the lead singers with pink wigs weren’t half as _cute._

Predictably, Shay had blushed before stuttering her way through an invitation to tonight’s performance. Jazmine accepted without a second thought, fingers brushing as they walked down main street together.

And now here they are.

“I didn’t invite you to scam money from you,” Shay says, holding it out again.

“I know. I’m just really enthusiastic about the school pool,” Jazmine smiles, closing Shay’s fist around the note. “And you.”

Shay’s laugh is quiet but bright. Tucking the note into her own pocket, she attempts to maintain eye contact for as long as she can. The heavy blanket of heat, the dazzling white glow of the stadium lights – all of it seems to intensify an already electrifying situation, and she eventually ducks her head.

Jazmine has no such qualms; her eyes remain focused on Shay even as she walks backwards into the bleachers. She hops over the first row, settles on the second. “Just promise me one thing?”

Shay looks up again, nodding.

“Remember me when you’re famous.”

From anyone else, the words would come across as gentle teasing, but there’s an edge of surety underlining Jazmine’s own. Like she’s never been more confident of anything in her entire life but the simple fact that Shay’s going to be a superstar one day. No ifs or buts about it.

Shay grasps onto the levity of those words, of that belief. “Not sure I could forget you.”

For once, Jazmine’s the flustered one. She cards a hand through her curls and laughs breathlessly. “Alright c’mon, you flirt. Why don’t you go make this night completely unforgettable.”

“Any suggestions?”

Jazmine nods, like she’s been planning this for a while and Shay only had to ask. “Another performance. Just for me.”

“I, uh, actually _was_ just performing for you tonight,” Shay mumbles, but the words are anything but unsure.

Leaning back on her elbows, Jazmine kicks at a stray bottlecap. “Thought so. Felt like we were the only two in that hall.”

It reminds her, oddly, of that day in the car with Megan, where the words she wanted to say – the ones she thought she would’ve, if Megan had pushed a little more in the right direction, maybe – sat right on the tip of her tongue, waiting to spill out. She and Jazmine tread a very fine tightrope right now; if they walked away, there’d probably still be an air of plausible deniability about this – this _thing_ between them. Shay can admit that it _is_ a thing, but if they returned to the auditorium or went to Grace’s, it’d be a _thing_ that remained locked away in the memory of this night, and this night alone.

Shay doesn’t think girls like her get second chances.

So she takes a step forward. “Feels that way a lot with you.”

And then ignoring the wave of anxiety threatening to rush in, Shay thinks _fuck it_ and starts singing.

It’s only the second time she’s performed _Minutes_ in front of an audience. This is scarier than it was earlier with the entire population of Bouldin jumping before her, but this feels more natural, too: she’s gifting the words to the person who inspired them. Right here and now, standing on the football field, nobody else in the world exists to share the moment with. Nobody can taint it. Nobody can steal it.

It belongs to them.

The stars in Jazmine’s eyes rival the ones glittering above. They shine brighter, illuminated by an emotion Shay can’t focus on right now, and when she slowly walks over from the bleachers, the sheer adoration radiating from her face is almost blinding.

The closer Shay gets to the end of the song, the closer Jazmine comes. By the time she’s whispering the final lines - _give me a minute and i’ll give you a minute, we’ll take it minute by minute –_ they’re practically bumping noses.

“What if I want more than a minute?” Jazmine breathes. It’s so quiet, Shay can hear the gentle rattle of Jazmine’s badges as she shuffles nervously. Most of the bravado from before is gone. Shay’s more than happy to meet her halfway.

“I want whatever you want,” she replies.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Then,” Jazmine says slowly. “I want you to kiss me.”

Shay inhales, closes her eyes, and fulfills the request.

It’s not her first kiss, but it’s the first one that matters. Shay can feel a palm cup the base of her neck, another brush behind her ear. Jazmine’s lips are as soft as she expected them to be – she’s seen her smear lip gloss on enough times already – but to be held and kissed like this is in a new realm of tender.

They lean back when their lungs start to faintly burn, but the magnetic pull between them is too strong, and Shay is tired of fighting it. She surrenders, tugging on a belt loop. Jazmine acquiesces, and the next kiss is the best of Shay’s life, only to be topped by the next one, and the next one after that.

It’s only when Shay is beginning to think that there is quite literally nothing that could ruin this moment that something, of course, does.

At first it’s just a small electronic _beep_ , one that is promptly ignored – a phone notification, Shay silently reasons, or a sound from the city bleeding in. They keep kissing.

But then the _beeping_ becomes louder, more frequent, and soon it all blurs together in a steady rhythm.

Later, her excuse for not realizing until it was too late is this: Shay’s not exactly a _sporty_ person. She exercises regularly and passes all of her P.E units, but you’ll never catch her voluntarily spending a Friday night at a football game, no matter how many times Marlon insists on labelling them _networking events_. (It is supposedly easy for him to ignore his anti-sporting beliefs when the opportunity to see Megan presents itself.)

This is her first time sneaking onto the grounds after hours too, which is to further say: it’s not her fault she didn’t recognize what was happening sooner.

When silence lingers after a final and particularly long beep, Shay smiles and feels Jazmine smile back against her mouth. It’s not the _nicest_ soundtrack to make out to, after all.

Their happiness is short-lived when a spray of ice-cold water hits their legs.

Despite the heat, it's sharp and freezing, and before Shay can finish gasping, another brief shower rains down on them.

“What the hell?” Jazmine laughs, frantically wiping drops from her eyes.

The beeping starts up again, and Shay understands now. It’s an alarm. A warning.

It’s also why tonight’s concert tickets were benefiting the school pool, because most of last year’s budget was spent fitting the football field with a new, more environmentally friendly sprinkler system, courtesy of a campaign Grace spearheaded with the paper.

(A campaign that _actually_ began as a Shay-grown seedling. She mentioned it offhandedly to Megan one day, after Megan was ranting about Grace’s writer’s block-fueled “crazy lady behavior”.)

Shay can’t help the laughter that bubbles out of her. Off Jazmine’s raised eyebrows, she elaborates.

“So what you’re saying,” Jazmine smirks when Shay’s finished. “Is that _you’re_ indirectly the reason we got interrupted?”

“Well,” Shay begins, but can find no way to end that sentence.

“You literally funded homophobia! I mean, let’s call it what it is. You think those sprinklers would’ve gone off on a _straight couple?”_

As clear and as striking as a bell, that’s what Jazmine’s laughter is like, Shay thinks. Familiar, but never any less new and strong.

“You wanna get out of here?” Jazmine asks for the second time in an hour. She’s squeezing water from her shirt, but in this heat it’s almost unnecessary. Shay reaches out to trace a stray drop as it runs down Jazmine’s collar.

“Yes,” Shay says, already knowing it’s how she’ll always answer that question, and any other Jazmine will ask her. “I do.”

* * *

**Author's Note:**

> i don't really have a celebrity/model faceclaim for jazmine, but please know that no version of american!even is white.
> 
> the title of the seminar the principal attended comes from [this meme](https://knowyourmeme.com/memes/how-do-you-do-fellow-kids).
> 
> let me know what you think!


End file.
